Dear my love,

haven’t you wanted to be with me… haven’t you longed to be free? I can’t keep pretending that I don’t even know you.

At sweet night, you are my own.

I have dreamt of a place for you and I. No one knows who we are there. All I want is to give my life only to you. I’ve dreamt so long I cannot dream anymore. Let’s run away, I’ll take you there.

Take my hand. We’re leaving here tonight. There’s no need to tell anyone because they’d only hold us down. So by the morning light we’ll be halfway to anywhere, where love is more than just your name.
Forget this life. Come with me. Don’t look back you’re safe now. Unlock your heart; drop your guard because no one’s left to stop you.

– Amy Lee

As I was walking along the pavement next to the small road that leads to my flat, I noticed a well-aligned row of newly dug holes on my left, along the gentle slope of a big field. The holes were rectangular, half a metre wide, half a metre deep and 1.5 metres long, about 1.5 metres apart from each other. I had another one of my funny freak imaginations and imagined that these holes had the right dimensions for dead toddlers in cheap wooden coffins. And I thought, Singapore’s land constraint is so bad, all the cemetries do not even have room for cute dead foetuses in little jam jars. So the MP fools the entire neighbourhood, puts up notices to inform the people who bother to read that they are to be having some construction work for more gas and water pipings. At night, while the little town sleeps, they surreptitiously bring in the little wooden coffins and jam jars in ice cream trucks and burry those poor fellas before dawn breaks.